With my present beliefs, I don’t have the comfort of thinking that I’ll live beyond my physical body, or that I’ll get to spend forever with the people I love. It’s possible that such a thing could happen — I’m open to the idea of spiritual existence, and I’d like to believe it. But I don’t have any solid reasons to think it will happen.

While I hope a place like Heaven exists, I won’t be disappointed if it doesn’t, because I won’t be around to realize it. If there’s no afterlife, then consciousness ends when we die. There’s no way to feel disappointment, regret, or even fear when consciousness has ended. In a way, that would mean that our “eternity” happens while we’re alive. The only time we experience would be during our physical lifetime, so that would be “eternity.” If nothing exists beyond this life, then I will still have spent all my time with the people I love. This life would be the sum of my existence. And I will be a part of my children’s lives for as long as they live. Their memories of me and their faith in who I am will be with them long after I’m gone. So while I hope that a place like Heaven exists for me to spend eternity with all my loved ones, this life is that too, from a certain point of view.

Let me explain it this way: if there is an eternal afterlife, how do you measure it? How do you measure eternity? I would think the only way to value it would be to look at the activities and relationships you experience during it. To say something goes on forever is somewhat meaningless when we’re trying to assign value. An eternity of filing taxes is much worse than 5 days at Disney World. Our physical lives are similar. We all live different lengths of time: some of us become centenarians, some of us die in utero. So the only way to really value life is to look at actions and relationships. In other words, it’s the quality of the life, not the quantity — just like eternity.

Why do we want to live forever? Is it just for the sake of existence? I don’t think so, because if you lived forever but everyone around you didn’t, you’d probably be miserable. So it’s really our relationships with loved ones that we want to experience forever. And since that’s what we really crave, we shouldn’t care too much how long “eternity” really is. In other words, “eternity” comes to mean the sum of our existence, not the sum of all time. If time goes on beyond us, why should we care? It’s only the part we exist in that really impacts us. So the sum of our existence is our “eternity.”

In a recent interview of Penn Jillette by Piers Morgan, Penn (of Penn and Teller fame, by the way) asks Morgan if he’s afraid of the year 1890 (this is around the 2:20 mark). Penn points out that Morgan wasn’t alive then — didn’t exist in any way. So is he afraid of 1890? Morgan is surprised by the question and eventually answers “of course not.” So Penn follows up with “so why is 2090 any worse than that?” I think it’s a good point. We didn’t mind non-existence before we were born; why should we mind non-existence after we die?

Looking at eternity in this way might seem bizarre or shallow. And granted, it’s not as wonderful a concept as a truly eternal afterlife. But if no afterlife exists, why not make the most of what we do have? Why not try to make this life the best it can be?

That brings me to eternal consequences. Do I worry that I could be wrong and wind up in Hell? I actually don’t. When I was a Christian, I didn’t understand how some people (like atheists) could act as though they weren’t concerned about the possibility of going to Hell. But I think I get it now. None of us fears the Egyptian underworld, because we don’t believe it’s real. We aren’t afraid of Greek mythology’s Tartarus, because we don’t believe it’s real. In the same way, I’m confident that if God really wanted us to have a message from him, it wouldn’t contain the kinds of mistakes that are in the Bible, so I don’t worry about its warnings of Hell. Hell isn’t real.

As it is, if God exists, I don’t think he cares much about which version of him we believe. I don’t mean that I think all religions are equal — I don’t think that at all. But I think most people are searching for him. Since he’s hidden himself by not letting us see or hear him, I don’t think he’ll judge too harshly if some of us don’t figure it out. If he’s concerned with anything, I’m more inclined to think it would be how we treat one another.

In the end, I came from a strict enough version of Christianity, that I never found religion all that comforting anyway. To me, God seemed more vengeful than loving. I felt that our beliefs were actually very bleak in that we thought most people who’d ever lived were going to Hell. As a non-believer, I no longer have the possibility of an afterlife to comfort me, but at the same time I have no fear of Hell. And since I still have this life to enjoy, I really don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything. I’m actually quite happy.

So I hope that helps explain my thought process a little bit. I think a lot of religious people wonder how non-believers view things like the afterlife and eternal consequences — I know I did when I was a Christian. There’s still much more to say on this subject, but I try not to make these posts too long. So if something I said didn’t make sense, or if there are some points you’d like to discuss further, feel free to leave some comments.

First of all, let’s start with what I used to be: a theist. Dictionary.com defines it this way:

1. the belief in one God as the creator and ruler of the universe, without rejection of revelation (distinguished from deism).
2. belief in the existence of a god or gods (opposed to atheism).

So a theist is someone that believes in a god(s) that has been personally involved in the world through miracles or revelation. Christians, Muslims, Mormons, Hindus, and pagans are all examples of theists.

A deist is different, though people often think it means the same thing as “theist.” Deism is defined as:

1. belief in the existence of a God on the evidence of reason and nature only, with rejection of supernatural revelation (distinguished from theism).
2. belief in a God who created the world but has since remained indifferent to it.

A deist is someone who does believe in God, but it’s not the god of Christianity, Islam, or any other revealed religion. Deists typically look at creation as evidence for God’s existence, but they don’t believe he’s communicated with man in any miraculous way. Many of our founding fathers were deists: Thomas Paine, Benjamin Franklin, James Madison, Thomas Jefferson, George Washington, etc. When I first realized that there were problems in the Bible and with Christianity, I considered myself to be a deist. Though I don’t consider myself that anymore, I don’t have any problems with the idea of deism. In fact, I think it’s a pretty rational way to look at things. If you’re interested in learning more about it, I’d recommend deism.com as a great source of information.

So now we’re left with atheism and agnosticism. Atheists say there’s no god, and agnostics say they just don’t know, right? Actually, that’s not quite right, and that’s why the term “atheist” carries such a bad connotation.

Agnosticism is not some in-between position between theism and atheism. An agnostic is defined like this:

1. a person who holds that the existence of the ultimate cause, as God, and the essential nature of things are unknown and unknowable, or that human knowledge is limited to experience. Synonyms: disbeliever, nonbeliever, unbeliever; doubter, skeptic, secularist, empiricist; heathen, heretic, infidel, pagan.
2. a person who denies or doubts the possibility of ultimate knowledge in some area of study.

Someone who’s agnostic doesn’t know if gods exist, but they also think it’s impossible to know whether or not they exist. They think mankind will never know, so they offer no opinion on the subject. Very few people match the definition of a true agnostic. The term “agnostic” doesn’t tell you someone’s belief so much as it tells you the certainty of their belief. For example, very open-minded Christians might be considered agnostic Christians. When I thought of myself as a deist, I was an agnostic deist. In other words, I tended to view the Universe as something created by an intelligence, but I knew I could easily be wrong about that.

The term “atheism” is defined this way:

1. the doctrine or belief that there is no God.
2. disbelief in the existence of a supreme being or beings.

Many people think that an atheist is someone who emphatically denies the existence of any god. In other words, they think atheists are arrogant enough to claim that they know gods don’t exist. But that’s not what most atheists think. Most atheists (myself included) are agnostic atheists. In other words, they don’t believe in any particular god, though they realize it’s possible they’re wrong.

Let me illustrate it this way (and I won’t be the first to do so): Christians are atheists in regard to Zeus, Apollo, Thor, Allah, and Krishna. They can’t know that those beings don’t exist, but they feel quite certain that they don’t. Thor’s possible existence is not something they worry about. Atheists feel the same way; they just add one more to the list than Christians do.

My other posts do a great job of explaining why I quit being a theist. But why did I go from deism to atheism? It’s actually fairly simple. I realized that my only real reasons for being deist boiled down to wishful thinking. I liked the idea of having a soul and having an afterlife. But as I spent more time thinking about our discoveries in biology, chemistry, and physics, I realized that I had never witnessed anything that couldn’t be explained scientifically. And throughout history, every time people bumped up against a problem they didn’t have the answer to (like why does it rain?), science eventually found an answer. Right now, we don’t know what caused the Big Bang. It’s tempting to ascribe it to God, but every other time we’ve done that, we’ve eventually found a scientific answer instead.

So in the end, whenever I called myself a deist, it just didn’t feel genuine — like I was just trying to fool myself. I found that the label “agnostic atheist” more accurately described what I really thought. Do I worry that I might be wrong? Do I worry that I might face an eternity of torment for my beliefs? No, I don’t. Ironically, I was much more concerned about that when I was a Christian. But I think tackling that question sufficiently will require another post. Until then… “be excellent to each other.”

I think the breakdown comes from the way we use the word “faith”. Even though I’m an atheist, I still think faith is important. For instance, I have faith in my wife. I have faith in my friends. This faith has nothing to do with whether or not they exist, but in their character. I can feel confident about how they would react in certain situations because I know them intimately.

In contrast, when religious people say that too many evidences would jeopardize faith, they’re talking about a simple belief in God, not a relationship. In other words, they’re talking about a being whose existence is still up for debate. How can you have a real relationship with an entity whose existence you aren’t certain about? I know my wife exists — the fact of her existence requires no faith at all. Instead, the faith I have in her is much more real. It’s built on a real relationship with real experiences.

If the god of Christianity actually made himself known to each one of us, we would still need faith. We would need the kind of faith attributed to Jesus — the faith of someone involved in an intimate relationship. Faith that means you can trust what someone says, that you can anticipate what someone will do or say. That kind of faith comes from truly knowing someone, and it’s the kind of faith that is sadly lacking in all religions because at the end of the day, they can’t be certain that the object of their “faith” is even there. It reminds me of the following quote:

The invisible and the non-existent look very much alike.
– Delos Banning McKown

The Church of Christ views withdrawal as the final effort to convince a wayward member of the church that he or she is in a sinful state and must make that right. I’ve most often seen this used with attendance issues. For instance, a member might begin missing services sporadically, eventually reaching a point where he just doesn’t come at all. Members of the congregation will try to contact this person to see what’s wrong. But after some time passes, if the person hasn’t corrected his behavior, the church will “withdraw fellowship” from him, and they’ll usually send him a letter notifying him of it. Their hope is that the person will realize the seriousness of his situation and come back to the congregation in repentance. As part of withdrawal, the members of the congregation are expected to cut off social ties with this individual. If they have contact, it’s expected to revolve around trying to bring him back.

The concept of withdrawal is pulled from several different passages, and you can see how typical Churches of Christ use them here and here. Let’s go through some of these passages and see what they say on the subject of withdrawal.

2 Thess 3:6-10

Now we command you, brothers, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you keep away from any brother who is walking in idleness and not in accord with the tradition that you received from us. For you yourselves know how you ought to imitate us, because we were not idle when we were with you, nor did we eat anyone’s bread without paying for it, but with toil and labor we worked night and day, that we might not be a burden to any of you. It was not because we do not have that right, but to give you in ourselves an example to imitate. For even when we were with you, we would give you this command: If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat.

When this passage is used to talk about withdrawal, they usually just refer to verse 6. It’s easy to see why people would do that. Verse 6 taken alone, seems to support the idea of not associating with any Christian who isn’t toeing the line. However, when taken in context, it’s clear that this passage is talking about Christians who are lazy. It doesn’t have much to do with doctrinal matters.

1 Tim 6:3-5

If anyone teaches a different doctrine and does not agree with the sound words of our Lord Jesus Christ and the teaching that accords with godliness, he is puffed up with conceit and understands nothing. He has an unhealthy craving for controversy and for quarrels about words, which produce envy, dissension, slander, evil suspicions, and constant friction among people who are depraved in mind and deprived of the truth, imagining that godliness is a means of gain.

This passage certainly deals with people who teach against Christ, but it doesn’t tell Christians what to do about such a person. It’s hard to use this passage to support the practice of withdrawal.

Phil 3:17-21

Brothers, join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us. For many, of whom I have often told you and now tell you even with tears, walk as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their end is destruction, their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.

Just like the example above, this passage doesn’t speak highly of those who aren’t Christians. But it doesn’t tell Christians what to do about it. In the end, not a very good passage for supporting the idea of withdrawal.

Hebrews 10:26-31

For if we go on sinning deliberately after receiving the knowledge of the truth, there no longer remains a sacrifice for sins, but a fearful expectation of judgment, and a fury of fire that will consume the adversaries. Anyone who has set aside the law of Moses dies without mercy on the evidence of two or three witnesses. How much worse punishment, do you think, will be deserved by the one who has spurned the Son of God, and has profaned the blood of the covenant by which he was sanctified, and has outraged the Spirit of grace? For we know him who said, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay.” And again, “The Lord will judge his people.” It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.

This is just another example like the last two we looked at. It says some pretty awful things about those who aren’t Christians, but it doesn’t tell churches what to do about it.

Ephesians 5:3-12

But sexual immorality and all impurity or covetousness must not even be named among you, as is proper among saints. Let there be no filthiness nor foolish talk nor crude joking, which are out of place, but instead let there be thanksgiving. For you may be sure of this, that everyone who is sexually immoral or impure, or who is covetous (that is, an idolater), has no inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and God. Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of these things the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience. Therefore do not become partners with them; for at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light (for the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true), and try to discern what is pleasing to the Lord. Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them. For it is shameful even to speak of the things that they do in secret.

Now this passage says that crude and immoral behavior should not be happening among Christians. This could imply that if someone in the group is behaving in that way, they should be kicked out. However, many of the people that are withdrawn from haven’t been withdrawn from because of moral issues. So can this passage really be used in those other cases?

Rom 16:17-18

I appeal to you, brothers, to watch out for those who cause divisions and create obstacles contrary to the doctrine that you have been taught; avoid them. For such persons do not serve our Lord Christ, but their own appetites, and by smooth talk and flattery they deceive the hearts of the naive.

Here, Christians are told to avoid people who cause divisions and create obstacles for their doctrine. Fair enough — that’s probably not bad advice. But is it specific enough to implement a doctrine like withdrawal? And what about those who have been withdrawn from but aren’t divisive? Is there really scriptural support to withdraw from people like that? Titus 3:10 is a similar passage, so I won’t quote the whole thing here, but you can check it out if you like.

Matt 18:15-17

“If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have gained your brother. But if he does not listen, take one or two others along with you, that every charge may be established by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If he refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church. And if he refuses to listen even to the church, let him be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.

For Jews of that time, treating someone as a Gentile or a tax collector meant that you had nothing to do with them. However, this passage is talking about personal disputes among brethren, not doctrinal issues. And does this instruction about treating the offending person as a Gentile or a tax collector apply to the congregation or just the individual that was offended?

2 John 10-11

If anyone comes to you and does not bring this teaching, do not receive him into your house or give him any greeting, for whoever greets him takes part in his wicked works.

This passage is often used in talking about withdrawal, but that’s taking it out of context. The Church of Christ doesn’t think that people in denominations are true Christians. Therefore, if they followed this passage literally, they couldn’t be hospitable toward their friends and family unless they were also members of the Church of Christ. Of course, that’s not how they apply this passage. But it can’t be applied to withdrawal either because it talks about all “false teachers.” In the end, most members of the church view this as a general teaching that you shouldn’t encourage people in false religious beliefs.

1 Cor 5:9-13

I wrote to you in my letter not to associate with sexually immoral people — not at all meaning the sexually immoral of this world, or the greedy and swindlers, or idolaters, since then you would need to go out of the world. But now I am writing to you not to associate with anyone who bears the name of brother if he is guilty of sexual immorality or greed, or is an idolater, reviler, drunkard, or swindler — not even to eat with such a one. For what have I to do with judging outsiders? Is it not those inside the church whom you are to judge? God judges those outside. “Purge the evil person from among you.”

This is probably the most important passage in relation to withdrawal. Verses 1 and 2 of this chapter tell us that the church in Corinth had a member that was openly involved in sexual immorality. In fact, he seemed rather proud of it. So the congregation was instructed to put him out of the church so he could see his error and repent. In 2 Cor we learn that this worked. So this is the standard that has been applied to virtually every problem Churches of Christ have faced.

But there’s more nuance to this passage. First of all, the offending member was still present in their congregation; he hadn’t left. He was still proclaiming himself to be a Christian and a member of that congregation, all while living an openly sinful lifestyle. But this is not the situation that many people are in when they are withdrawn from. Many people have been withdrawn from over attendance issues. In other words, the offending member has stopped associating with that congregation, yet they’re withdrawn from anyway. The Bible has no example of such a thing.

Also, verses 9, 10, 12, and 13 of this chapter make the point that Christians can’t withdraw from people who aren’t Christians. If they tried, they would have to withdraw themselves from the world around them (this is what the Amish do, by the way). For those of us who have left Christianity altogether, we have become part of the world. We don’t consider ourselves Christians, and we don’t claim to be Christians. So how can we be withdrawn from?

This brings me to the effectiveness of withdrawal. In 1 Cor 5, we see an example of withdrawal that works. It works because the person in question still believed he should be living the Christian lifestyle. When his fellow Christians reacted to his actions by withdrawing fellowship from him, it clearly showed him that they believed he was not living up to the Christian ideals. I can see why something like withdrawal would work in that kind of situation. It’s being administered to someone who already “knows better.”

However, the situation is very different for many others. My wife and I simply don’t believe Christianity is true. How could withdrawal convince us otherwise? We’ve laid out our reasons for leaving time and time again. We’ve given examples of the problems in the Bible that led us away from it. How does withdrawal offer answers to those issues? How does it provide additional evidence that could make the Bible believable? It doesn’t. There’s no way withdrawal could work with people like us because it in no way addresses the root causes of our leaving Christianity.

And if it could bring us back, it wouldn’t be true repentance. We would be coming back solely because we miss our families. Why would they even want such a “repentance”? It would be a lie, and our souls would be no better off.

But in the end, withdrawal has only made us less likely to come back. When you’re made an outcast by the people you love the most, it only creates resentment. The relationship we have with our families now is strained at best. So even though we miss them terribly, we miss the relationships we used to have — we don’t really miss them as they are now. The tension that’s been created by this situation has caused us to have less and less desire to be around them as time goes on. In other words, withdrawal has had the opposite effect on us. Instead of making us want to come back, it’s made us not feel so bad about leaving it behind.

But this hard line stance isn’t practiced by everyone in the church. There are some who think that while family ties may be changed by someone leaving the church, they shouldn’t be severed. This is the view that I wish my family took. In fact, some of my family members do take that view, but they’ve been afraid to say much since they’re in the minority. But as I’ve tried to lay out above, there’s good scriptural basis for taking the more moderate approach. While I was looking for Church of Christ articles about withdrawal, I actually came across one that articulates the moderate stance pretty well. If you’re interested, you can find it here.

I realize that most of my family will probably never leave Christianity, and that’s okay. I just hope that they’ll eventually find a way to keep their beliefs and have a relationship with me at the same time. I hope that they’ll ask themselves these questions: if it weren’t for their belief that God wants them to withdraw from us socially, would they do it? Would they view it as the best way to handle this situation? Do they really think that withdrawal could make us come back to Christianity? And finally, after going through these passages, are they sure that the Bible really teaches them to withdraw from people who no longer want to be Christians at all?

Because of its focus on the New Testament, the Church of Christ tries to base everything it does on scripture. There’s a saying that’s often associated with the church which says, “Speak where the Bible speaks; be silent where the Bible is silent.” In many ways, it’s an admirable stance to take. But this devotion to scripture also creates a problem that many people who leave other branches of Christianity don’t have to deal with: withdrawal.

Withdrawal is a practice that is very similar to “excommunication” in Catholicism, “disfellowshipping” as used by the Jehovah’s Witnesses, “disconnection” in Scientology, and “shunning” among the Quakers. In withdrawal, those who have “fallen away” from the church can no longer be associated with in any context, unless it’s being done in an effort to bring them back to the group. Even among close family members, this is usually expected to be enforced. So my wife and I knew that if we left Christianity, or even just the conservative branch of the Church of Christ, we would lose our relationships with those we were closest to.

As you might imagine, dealing with that realization only makes the search for truth that much more difficult. Because now, the decision isn’t being based solely on evidence; it’s being heavily swayed by social pressures. All this really does is make it more difficult to tell others that you’re struggling with doubt. When I first had concerns about the Bible, I told some people I was close to, because I fully expected to find solutions to the issues. But when they didn’t have any answers, I was referred to other Christians who might be able to help. As time went by, the circle of people who were aware of my questions became quite large, so that there was no way for me to just let things go. I was frequently asked if any progress had been made with my doubts. I wanted to be honest and say that my doubts had only grown, but I also knew that complete honesty would eventually get me driven out of the church (and my family).

It was an incredibly difficult period — easily the toughest thing we’ve ever been through. My wife and I tried to deal with it in different ways. At one point, we decided that we would just continue to live as Christians even though we didn’t believe it just to save our family relationships. But we soon realized that this would be too difficult to accomplish. Before our doubts, we had both been very involved in the congregation. We both taught Bible classes, and I took a very active role in worship. We couldn’t go back to that level of involvement, but we also knew that as long as we took a less active role, people would suspect our lack of belief. Also, the Church of Christ isn’t casual about things like attendance. If you don’t go to every service, then obviously something is wrong. And it’s not that we hated going to church services — it was actually something we had always enjoyed. But we worried about exposing our kids to it so frequently, especially since they would be expected to go to Bible classes. And considering our past devotion, no one was really going to accept anything less than a full recovery from us. We just weren’t capable of that.

Finally, we realized that we just couldn’t be dishonest about our beliefs. We didn’t want to live that way, and we certainly couldn’t raise our kids to believe something that we thought was false. So we stopped pretending and were officially “withdrawn from” in December 2010. We weren’t able to do Christmas with our families. We haven’t heard from them on our birthdays. In some ways, it’s almost like they’ve died. The most complicated part is that we have 3 children, and we want them to be able to enjoy their grandparents. So while our families can’t have anything to do with my wife and I, we still have to interact with them enough to coordinate visits with our kids.

The whole situation has been awful, and not everyone in the family has been on board. Some members of my family aren’t members of the Church of Christ anyway, so their relationships with us haven’t changed. And a couple of my family members who are in the church, don’t completely agree with the way our withdrawal has been handled. But they can’t speak up much for fear of retribution.

So if you’ve read my blog and wondered why I bother writing against Christianity, it’s with the hope that our families will rethink their positions. Even if they never turn away from Christianity, if they could just see that the Bible doesn’t always agree on the details, maybe they would relent on their strict application of withdrawal. We miss our families, and all we really want is tolerance.

In the next post, I’ll examine the doctrinal basis for withdrawal.

Though in some ways, I don’t guess that’s a fair statement. When I look back, I can see that my approach to religion was different from many of those around me, though I didn’t realize it at the time. Growing up in the Church of Christ, I firmly believed that there was such a thing as objective truth. I believed that God wanted everyone to follow his word, which I believed was the Bible, and that those who didn’t would go to Hell. I also believed that God showed no favoritism (Acts 10:34). Since he had allowed so many people to be born into cultures that didn’t follow the Bible (or followed it incorrectly), then it only made sense that he would make the Bible so perfect that an objective observer would be able to tell that it was truth. Furthermore, I understood that since the majority of the world’s population was lost (according to my beliefs), it was also possible that I was lost. After all, I knew many people who believed they were doing the right thing, even though my beliefs said they weren’t. If they could be wrong despite their sincerity, then so could I. The only way to guard against that was to study the Bible carefully and make sure I was following it to the best of my ability.

I assumed that’s how almost everyone in the Church of Christ viewed things: that truth should be pretty evident and that it was possible for us to be wrong, even though we didn’t think we were. But now that I look back, I don’t think many others shared that view. For me, those core precepts are still the same. I still think that if God exists and actually wanted something of us, then he would make his message to us plain and evident. Because of that conviction, I now realize that the Bible can’t be that message. It just has too many problems.

Where I really get frustrated with my friends and family is in trying to explain those precepts to them. Those concepts (truth exists, it can be found by objective individuals, it’s possible to think you’re right but be wrong, etc) are so basic to me that I have trouble putting them into words. When I talk to my family about some of the contradictions in the Bible, I’m told that they’re minor issues, or just details. Or I’m told that even though we may not understand them or have all the information, we can’t just assume they’re real contradictions. Maybe there’s an explanation that we just haven’t considered. But when I point out that we don’t treat other religious texts that way, or that people from other faiths wouldn’t be inclined to give the Bible the benefit of the doubt that way, I’m told that they can’t worry about people of other faiths. But they’re missing the point! It’s not about how they feel about those people; the real issue is that God would make his message clear if he really wants people from other cultures and faiths to leave their beliefs and come to Christianity.

If God weren’t omnipotent, then we couldn’t expect him to write a perfect message. If he weren’t omniscient, then he wouldn’t have known that the way he wrote certain things would be confusing to later generations. If Heaven or Hell didn’t hang in the balance, then the Bible wouldn’t have to be perfectly clear because it wouldn’t matter a great deal if you missed it. If God didn’t really care what happened to everyone, then we could understand why he wouldn’t worry too much about having inconsistencies or failed prophecies in his word. But the Bible tells us that he is omnipotent, he is omniscient, Heaven and Hell do hang in the balance, and he does love all of us. That means that his message to us would truly be inerrant. We wouldn’t have to go to great lengths to try to explain why things that look like contradictions aren’t really contradictions (check out the links in my About section if you want specific examples). We wouldn’t have to come to God’s defense.

I understand why my family doesn’t want to believe the Bible is false. They’ve built their lives around a set of beliefs, and that gives them comfort. They have an understanding of the world, and to have that uprooted is frightening and unsettling. But those reasons don’t make their beliefs true. A thousand years ago, people who believed in Thor gained comfort from their understanding of the world. Did that mean Thor existed? And our families don’t get the comfort from their religion that they used to. They now think that my wife and I are headed for Hell and that we’re probably taking our kids with us. So why continue to hang on to such a belief so tightly when evidence that it’s false has been presented to them? I really don’t know. I think it’s still too difficult for them to imagine that the Bible could be wrong. The Bible has provided them with an explanation for why they value morality. It tells them that death really isn’t the end for us. It tells them that even though bad things sometimes happen, someone who loves them actually has the “whole world in his hands.” It’s hard to give that up.

But there’s a dark side to those beliefs too. There’s the notion that everyone who believes something different is bound for an eternity of torture. And there’s the teaching that any Christians who stop believing must be shunned. Living with those principles is very difficult. It’s also pointless if their beliefs are wrong. So even though questioning the truth of Christianity is painful and frightening, there are good incentives to do it.

Look, I hate it when people assign motives to me. Over the last year and a half, I’ve been accused of all kinds of things: never really believing to begin with, not knowing how to study properly, wanting to live immorally, turning away because of my dislike for Hell, etc. When in reality, I left Christianity primarily because of internal contradictions and false prophecies (and I have frequently given specifics on those things). So I want to be careful about assigning motivations to my family on why they continue to believe. But it’s really been difficult for me to understand it.

I’ve told my wife several times that it’s hard for me to understand how some of our friends and family can still sit through worship services after the conversations we’ve had. Now that they’re aware of the issues in the Bible, I just don’t see how they can keep going. Do they really feel satisfied with some of the weak responses people have offered about the Bible’s problems? Or do they just try not to think about it? I honestly find it very puzzling. I also think it’s hypocritical in that they don’t want to study these things deeply, yet they criticize other religious people for not seeing the problems in their beliefs. I don’t get it.

Well, I’ve probably ranted enough. I just wish we could make some headway on this with our families. We miss the relationships we once had. Our goal really isn’t to make them stop being Christians, we just want some tolerance. They aren’t willing to accept us unless we sign on to their belief system, and that is what I hope will change.

But the man of God answered the king, “Even if you were to give me half your possessions, I would not go with you, nor would I eat bread or drink water here. For I was commanded by the word of the LORD: ‘You must not eat bread or drink water or return by the way you came.’” So he took another road and did not return by the way he had come to Bethel.

But there was an old prophet living in Bethel who heard about what happened at the altar. So taking his donkey, he overtakes the young man and asks him to come back and eat with him. But the young prophet declines and tells the old man the same thing he said to Jeroboam. At this point, the old prophet lies and says that an angel of God told him to find the young prophet and bring him back home so the young man could eat. So the young prophet believes the old man and goes home with him.

Here’s what happens next (v 20-22):

While they were sitting at the table, the word of the LORD came to the old prophet who had brought him back. He cried out to the man of God who had come from Judah, “This is what the LORD says: ‘You have defied the word of the LORD and have not kept the command the LORD your God gave you. You came back and ate bread and drank water in the place where he told you not to eat or drink. Therefore your body will not be buried in the tomb of your ancestors.’”

Once they finished eating, the young man left on the old prophet’s donkey, but God sent a lion to kill him on his way home.

This story always bothered me. The young man may have made a mistake, but he was still trying to do what God wanted him to do. It just didn’t seem fair. But as I got older, I began to see the lesson in this story. Even though the young prophet’s intentions were pure, he didn’t validate the claims of the old prophet. He simply took the man at his word, instead of trying to investigate the truth of the old prophet’s claims.

As I’ve spoken to my family about the issues in the Bible, I’ve been reminded of this story. They have accepted the Bible as a message from God without really vetting it. Like the old prophet, the Bible has made the claim that it speaks for God. Why should we believe it? Simply because it says so? That’s the same mistake that the young prophet made. We should honestly examine the evidence and see how the Bible measures up. Unlike the young prophet, we need to exhibit some skepticism until we’ve each done a thorough investigation.

For some reason, most of my family has had a very difficult time realizing that questioning the Bible is not the same thing as questioning God. To question the Bible is to question the men who wrote it. If they were really inspired by God, it shouldn’t be too difficult to discern it. Even the Bible says we shouldn’t just believe everything we’re told, but we should test messengers to make sure they’re really speaking for God (1 John 4:1). Why do so many act as though the Bible should get a pass on that? It’s because they’re trying to defend what they’ve always known.

For instance, take Ezekiel’s prophecy of Tyre (Ezek 26-28), which I’ve written about here. Ezekiel prophesied that Tyre would be destroyed, and that it would never be rebuilt. He even said that though people would search for it, they wouldn’t find it. Yet Tyre is still there today. It’s still called by the same name. And even though people sometimes argue about whether Ezekiel’s Tyre was on the island or the mainland, modern Tyre sits on both spots. In other words, this prophecy could not have been a more complete failure. Yet that doesn’t deter most Christians I’ve spoken to. Why do they continue to believe it? Because questioning their faith is too frightening and painful. In the end, they’re just not willing to do it, even though they believe that Mormons, Muslims, Buddhists, etc should all question theirs. In other words, they’ve chosen to believe the old prophet, even when evidence shows they shouldn’t.